Life with my Uncles
by Meg Thornton
Summary: In Australia, in an Alternative Universe, a young woman starts boarding with her older relatives....
1. Moving In

An AU. Fairmont university, Southport, and all other places referred to herein are fictions of the author's making. Any resemblance to people or places already extant is entirely coincidental, except in the case of the Fellowship of the Ring and all of Tolkien's other elven characters, in which case I apologise profusely, and I'll put them back when I've finished, okay? Oh, no money is being made from this, although that's not for lack of wishing it was.  
  
Life with my Uncles:  
====================  
  
*Chapter One: Moving in*  
  
I don't know what I was expecting when I first came to live with my uncles. The main reason I'd chosen to move in with them was because they were close to the university I was planning to study at. Or at least, closer than the rest of my family. It also helped that Mother and I got along like cats in a sack. We've both got the same kind of personality - and oh boy, does it show at times. The rest of my family were quite pleased when I announced that I was going to go and live with my uncles while I was off at university. I presume they anticipated a return to something verging on peace and quiet. My cousin Claire had been living with them, but she was now at the point where she wanted to move in with her boyfriend. So they had a room free, anyway.  
  
I moved in, complete with my gear, on the Saturday before enrollment day. Uncle Arthur showed up and gave me a hand transporting most of my stuff, remarking at the weight of some of the boxes of books I'd brought with me. He commented that at least I didn't seem to be as much of a clothes-horse as Claire, which wasn't saying much. Claire is clothes-mad and as a result she's probably the least favourite of my cousins. There's not a single word of coherent conversation that can be had with her if you're within fifty feet of a newsagent that sells fashion magazines, or a store that sells clothes. (I mean, don't get me wrong: I like having nice clothes myself, but most of the time all I care about is that they'll keep me warm and decently covered.) I wasn't going to leave my books or my music behind, though. So I had the better part of four bookshelves and five CD racks stuffed into boxes, ready to take with me. As well as my PC and a small packet of games. Well, small compared to my standard pile, most of which I'd sold off in order to get some spending money. I just hoped that I'd be able to get myself a job when I got there, so that I could keep the spending money coming in.  
I'd been given a room to myself, which was nice of them. I suspected that it was the room that Claire had formerly occupied. They'd redecorated it for me, from the smell of fresh paint. Again, very nice of them, although I could have wished that they'd chosen another colour for me than girly pink. Ah well, beggars can't be choosers, and they didn't have to keep me here. I could have been looking at the university's student accommodation, which was frankly grotty; I'd seen it. I started unpacking everything and putting all my things away. Due to the previous occupant of the room having been Claire, there was loads of wardrobe space and very little shelf space. The largest horizontal surface in the room was the bed, which looked to be about queen sized. A lot of my books were going to have to stay in their boxes, drat it. At least there was a desk available to use. I started setting up the PC.  
I was about three-quarters of the way through the setup when I became aware of someone. One of Uncle Arthur's housemates was looking around the door. I'd been vaguely aware of them the few times we'd visited, mainly as a sort of muffled presence in the background. I hadn't really met up with any of them aside from Arthur, Boris and Larry.   
"Hullo," I said. "I'm Sarah, Arthur's niece."  
A rather short man came in the door, to greet me. "Hullo Sarah. I'm... Fred. Yes, that's right, Fred".  
Ohhh-kaaay.   
"Pleased to meet you, Fred."  
"What are you doing?" he asked, looking curiously at me. I was bent near double over the back of the PC plugging cords in. I raised my eyebrows slightly because it seemed fairly obvious to me what I was doing, but decided to be courteous.   
"I'm connecting up my computer."  
At the sound of the word "computer", another two heads popped around the door. They were both slightly taller than Fred and they looked about twice as curious about what was going on.   
"Ummm, hi," I said, slightly confused.   
"Ah, you'd be umm.. Arthur's new relative, wouldn't you?" asked one of them. I nodded.   
"I'm Sarah."  
"Oh, Trixie's girl!" the other one piped up. I nodded again. I wondered how they knew my mother, because she generally avoided this part of the family like the plague. I'd had about three courtesy visits with my uncles, which I could only remember dimly. The last one had happened after the birth of the second of my two younger brothers, when I was six. That was about the point where we'd all moved to a different town and Mother had rather emphatically cut down the connection to occasional letters and phone calls on birthdays. I'd taken a bit of a chance on writing to them when I heard that Claire was moving out, since they didn't really know me and I didn't really know them. But the answer had come quickly by phone: Uncle Arthur had been quite happy for me to come and stay, even offering to give me transport there.   
So now, here I was, meeting his... housemates. Funny, I hadn't known that he roomed with dwarfs. Ah well, better be polite and politically correct.   
"Yes, I'm Beatrice's daughter," I corrected them. "I'm staying here while I'm at university."  
"Oh, so you'll be studying then?" The question came from Fred.   
"Yes", I agreed. I'd chosen to come to the Southport campus of Fairmont university because it was a bit out of the way, as well as having a damn good IT degree in the works. The fact that it was a five hour journey from home helped a fair amount, too. Mother and I seem to agree more when we're in separate postal districts. I had some vague memories of Southport from my childhood, of swimming in the ocean and of walking along the beaches with my mother. I was looking forward to seeing whether I could find the places I remembered from my childhood.   
"Maybe we should tell Sam and ... Larry", said one of the two by the door. Again, that small stumble over the names. It was almost as though they weren't used to them. I suddenly recalled that I hadn't been introduced to the two people at the door. I raised the matter with Fred.   
"Oh, yes, how careless of me," he said, sounding about twice as old as he looked. "This is ... Mark", he gestured at the left hand one of the pair, who was slightly taller than the other, "and this is ... Phillip".   
"Call me Pip," Phillip said, holding out a hand to shake.   
"Pleased to meet you both," I said, shaking hands with each of them, then turning back to my PC. "If you'll all excuse me, I have to finish unpacking."  
I heard their goodbyes, and continued with setting up the PC. Once everything was assembled, I switched it on and checked that it booted up successfully. Yup, no problems there. Once I'd made certain that my PC was okay after the journey, I proceeded to unpack all of my clothes and put them away. As I'd suspected, my clothes packed into about a third of the space that Claire's had occupied. Then I moved on to my books and my CDs. The CDs were easy: I'd packed them in their racks, so all that had to be done was to take the racks out of their boxes and put them on the floor between the desk and the chest of drawers. I put my stereo on one end of the desk and plugged it into a spare outlet on the powerboard that I was using for the PC. Then I opened the first box of books, the one that contained all my old favourites, that I enjoyed re-reading. I found shelf space for all of these, but only just. I'd need to reserve some room for my textbooks, after all. With a sigh, I looked at the other two boxes of books and carefully pushed these into the bottom of one of the wardrobes. Then I took a look around the rest of the room, picked up my rather battered teddybear and placed it on top of the bed. A bit childish, I suppose, but I found that if I had the bear to cuddle, I fell asleep a lot easier. Given that this was going to be my first time living away from home, I wanted to make certain that I wasn't going to be lying awake all night.  
Just as I'd finished this, I heard a knock on the door. I looked up.  
"Hullo uncle Arthur," I said.  
"Oh, just Arthur will do. I'm not really your uncle, after all," he replied, smiling at me. "I was wondering whether you'd like to meet the rest of the household?"  
I nodded. "That sounds good."  
"Well, we're all downstairs, in the sitting room. Come and meet the others."  
  
I followed my uncle to the sitting room. There were seven other people there, including the three I'd met previously. Of those I hadn't met, there was an elderly man, with a long grey beard (Augustus, or Gus, White); a tall, slender, blond man, wearing the type of haircut I'd always associated with Norman-era pageboys (Larry Green); a short, solid man, with a gruff manner and a bristling beard which appeared to have a personality of its own (George Goodwin) and the final one, another dwarf, like the other three, was Sam Gardiner. Apparently the other person who shared the house, my other "uncle", Boris Barhill, was currently on active service in the military, but was due home on furlough at some point in the next month or so. I said all that was polite and listened to a number of anecdotes from each of them, while waiting for dinner. I explained about my plans for study, with regard to the IT side of my planned degree, as well as getting some advice from both Larry and Gus about what I should take as "breadth" modules for my degree. Well, it was sort of advice. Larry was suggesting I stay well away from the English department, and Gus was telling me that I shouldn't take philology or philosophy, because he wasn't there to teach them any more. I filed these recommendations away in the back of my mind, and decided to see what was available when I got to enrollment day on Monday. The best thing that came out of the whole business was that Arthur said that he'd see whether the high school was willing to pay for a part-time computer person (ie me!) while I was being trained. I agreed to the idea: I mean, it's a job, it'll give me work experience and I'll be able to claim it as relevant experience on my resume. What's not to like about the idea?  
  
Over dinner, Fred raised the issue of getting me onto the roster as soon as possible.  
"What roster?" I asked.  
"The roster of household chores," Fred explained. "We've found that this makes it easier for everyone to get things done. This way, everyone has a turn at everything and nothing misses being done." He sounded very chirpy about the whole notion. I had a look at the fridge, where there was a large chart, colour-coded with squares in different colours running across each job. Seemed logical enough to me, so I agreed to get dropped into the roster as soon as I could.  
"We'll let Mr .. Arthur explain the house rules to you," Sam said. Hmm... seemed to be a regular thing, this hesitation over names. I would have considered it a bit further, but Arthur had started speaking.  
"The first rule is that all visitors of the opposite sex have to be out of the house by midnight."  
I nodded. I wasn't surprised at that one. Mother had just about had a shrieking fit when she'd discovered that I'd had sex twice with Barry Michaels back home. I didn't think she'd let me stay here without at least some efforts at chaperonage.   
"Next rule is that visitors of the same sex can sleep over, provided sleeping is all that they're doing."  
I raised my eyebrows at that one, as girls really weren't my thing and it wasn't my business what any of the men in the house were doing. I nodded all the same.  
"As Fred has already mentioned, everyone takes their turn at cooking, cleaning and all the other chores. Fred keeps track of the roster, and it's pinned to the fridge. Next up, all your washing has to be in the washing basket at nine am sharp on Saturday morning. If you leave anything in the pockets, it'll get thrown in the bin: cash gets put into the jar on top of the dryer. If it's late getting in, you don't see it until after the next washday. No mid-week loads of washing. Your bedroom is your responsibility to keep clean. Or not, as you prefer."  
"What about board?" I asked. This was worrying me slightly, as although I was eligible for student allowance, I knew it didn't come to much. This is why I was looking for a part-time job.  
"You're not paying board as such," Arthur explained. "Instead, you'll be chipping in your share of the bills. It's equal for everyone. Oh, and it has to be paid on time. No credit."  
I nodded again. "All sounds fair enough. Are there any other rules?"  
Larry laughed. "Not written ones, although you'll probably learn the unwritten ones soon enough."  
"Any other matters?" Arthur asked. "Is your room all right? Do you need anything else? We weren't sure whether to get any extra furniture or not, so we left the things that Claire had been using in there."  
I smiled. "Well, I'm nowhere near as interested in clothes as Claire was," I commented. "I'd actually prefer a few more bookshelves to the second wardrobe, to be honest. Oh, and is it okay if I set up an internet connection? I'll pay for the extra phone line and everything else involved myself, if you like."  
"Bookshelves we can do," Mark said. "There's a couple of them out in the shed."  
"And that second wardrobe can come out easily," Pip agreed.  
"There should be a second phone line already in that room," George commented. "We had it put in for Marcia, when she stayed here. The phone bill was going through the roof, so we got her her own line and told her to pay the bill herself. I'll see about getting that one reactivated"  
Hang on... Marcia? The only Marcia I knew of in the family was my Aunt Marcia, who was about ten years older than Mother. Now, most of the men in this household didn't look much older than about thirty-odd. Mother was about fifty, which made Aunt Marcia about sixty. Something strange was happening here. However, it had been a long day. I was feeling tired. I decided to get some sleep, so as soon as dinner was actually finished and Mark and Pip had started on the washing up, I excused myself to go to bed. As I snuggled up to my bear and huddled under the covers, I thought I heard conversation from downstairs, but it was lost in the mists of sleep.  
  
***  
"What did you have to go and mention Marcia for, Gimli? She's not as daft as Claire, she might figure it out!"  
"Not as daft as Claire covers a fairly wide spectrum, Frodo. But I agree, we're all going to have to be a bit more circumspect around Miss Sarah. That includes the four of you practicing referring to everyone by their mufti names. I saw the looks she was giving you."  
"Oh, but Gandalf! It's so difficult to remember all those names!"  
"This from the hobbit who can remember the whole of Sarah's family tree right back to myself, recite it flawlessly, and not miss a single name of all the cousins, branches or spouses. Methinks you protest a little too much, Merry."  
"Shh. She's only just upstairs. She might hear us."  
  
*** 


	2. Many Meetings

*Chapter Two: Many Meetings*  
  
I was starting to settle in with Arthur and his housemates. I'd been added to the roster yesterday, and started doing my chores today, starting with cooking dinner for the nine of us tonight. Ah well, that should be interesting to try. I hope they don't mind stew: I'm not going to risk a curry until I'm certain that they'll all be able to handle it. Yesterday had been rather busy, as Arthur and myself moved the wardrobe out of the bedroom (I think he'd been intending to move it all by himself, which seemed a bit surprising to me; ah well, he didn't object to me taking the other end of the thing). Mark and Pip had got to and installed some bookshelves (with the help of some power tools and ladders) and offered to give me a hand putting the books away too. I accepted, and the job was done in jig time.   
  
I'd also met the first of the locals. I'd been going to the nearby shop (a sort of corner store place, not very big, but it did sell both asprin and sanitary supplies, both of which I'd discovered that I'd forgotten) and had walked past a rather scrappy looking place. Definite bogan sign there, right down to the car up on blocks in the driveway. The strains of AC/DC were thumping out of the place as well, while the three gilded youths who sat on the verandah were sort of singing along. Or at least, they would have been singing along if they'd been in the same key. Or on the right tune. As it was, they were just shouting along in vaguely the same tempo as the lyrics of the song. When I walked past, two of them started yelling out the mating call of the common hoon: "Hey, check the tits on that, willya!" I ignored them, and kept walking.   
Whoops, wrong bloody thing to do. That just made them more eager to get some attention. Any attention, even the finger. Plus, they were just about largered up enough that they'd do something to get it. I was right. Catcalls, wolf whistles, and comments regarding my sexuality ("She's a lesbo, must be!"), topped off by the great beery ritual of dropping their daks and mooning. That last did get a response.  
"Gidday fellas, I was wondering if you could tell me who the three arseholes that were talking earlier were?" I commented. Then I ran like buggery for the end of the street, before the comment sank in. Laughing all the way, I must admit  
  
I got into the shop, and the guy behind the counter commented to me, "I see you've met our local entertainment."   
I grinned. "Oh, is that what they were? I was thinking I'd found the special school."  
"Naah, those three are just dumb," he commented. "I should know, I live with 'em. Name's Don Drake, but most folks call me Duck. What can I do for you?"  
"I'm looking for asprin and ummmm..." How do you ask for things like that? Especially in front of someone who seems really nice? Fortunately he took pity on my confusion.   
"Down the back, on the other side of the rack with the loo paper."  
I nodded, got the bits & pieces I needed, and came back to the checkout.   
"So, you're new in town?", Duck asked me as he ran my purchases through the register. I nodded.  
"I've just moved in with my uncles, up at number 33. Moved here to study at the university. I'm doing IT."  
"Hey, no kiddin'? So'm I! Well, at least you'll know one face in the classes, anyway." He seemed fairly happy about the whole business. "So which one of the guys at 33 is your uncle?"  
"Arthur."  
"What, Mr DelConda? Hey, cool! I had 'im for history last year. He's a pretty nice guy."  
"Yeah. I just moved in yesterday. Down from Northcote."   
"Okay, that lot'll be $9.35. Northcote, eh? D'you know the Johnsons?"  
"Yeah, I was in the same year as Terry in school."  
"35 cents change, and here's your stuff. Ah, Terry's me cousin. I'll tell 'im you stopped by, if you like?"  
"No, you don't need to. I didn't know him all that well. Nice to meet you. See you tomorrow at enrollment day?"  
"Yeah, I'll keep an eye out, okay?"  
  
I headed back home, thinking that Duck was a nice enough type. I noticed as I headed past the house that Duck shared that the three who'd been out the front had apparently gone inside. I breathed a sigh of relief. At least I wouldn't have to put up with their comments on the way back. Or at least, that's what I'd thought. Instead, I found that they were waiting for me with a bucket of water. Which they proceeded to drench me with. How nice. Not. I was drenched, and slightly startled by the whole business. Which is probably why one of them got close enough to go the grope. Fortunately for me, I'd spent a bit of money last year in doing a self-defence course (one of those ones which is intended for women living in awkward situations). He'd come up behind me, and certainly wasn't expecting the elbow in the gut that he got. He fell to the ground, gasping. I could feel the mood of the other two change. Up until now, they'd been planning to just have a bit of a grope, pay me back for ignoring them (it's worth noting that like most bullies, they had to act in concert). Now I'd hurt one of theirs, so they wanted to hurt me back.   
All I can say is thank all the gods for the slowing effects of beer. These guys didn't so much telegraph their punches as send two weeks advance notice by courier. So when the next one tried to hit me in the gut, I was able to drop so that the punch missed me, and then sweep his feet out from under him. The third one grabbed me by the shoulders, trying to pull me in close. One knee to the groin later, he was crumpled up in his own world of pain. I checked around - all of them were too busy recovering to try and stop me any further. I made my getaway.   
  
There had been all kinds of questions when I got back home, drenched to the skin and swearing furiously, but although George was close to going down there to "teach those lads a bit of manners", I managed to persuade him not to. After all, they'd been beaten up by me on my own, which was quite embarassing enough. Hopefully that would teach them not to try anything in future. I'd been toasted as a "mighty warrior" at dinner time, which embarassed me quite enough, thanks.  
  
Anyway, there I was for my first real visit to Southport campus of Fairmont University. It was a fairly new place, about five years old, so a lot of the architecture hadn't quite got the shiny rubbed off it yet. It was in various shapes and structures of "architecture award", with the main building materials apparently being plate glass and concrete. Given that my own preferences tend more toward federation-style brick and less toward ultra-modern office block as an architectural style, I thought it looked hideous. So did at least one or two of the gardeners, by the look of things. There were a lot of trees planted in strategic places, to shield the public from some of the more dramatic architectural features. Or at least, they would when they'd grown to full size.   
I'd been dropped off by Arthur, who'd said that he'd pick me up on his way back from the high school at about four o'clock in the afternoon, and gave me the number for the staff room at the high school if I decided to head back home prior to that. I made my way up to the enrollments area, checking that I'd brought everything I needed: TEE results, birth certificate, driver's licence, handbook, novel to read in queues, purse. Looked like it. I followed the signs pointing the way, and joined the queue. I was given my enrollment form, and told to fill it out with the classes I wanted to do. Ach, damn. I'd forgotten one important thing: a pen. I scrabbled about in the bottom of my bag, to see whether the one I could vaguely remember having put in there was still there. No such luck. I was so distracted by the search that I didn't hear the person coming up behind me.  
"You might find this useful."  
A hand on my arm, and a pen proffered. I turned to face the person offering it. A tallish girl, with dark hair, and brown eyes. She offered her hand to shake, after I'd taken the pen.   
"Hi, Maggie Pierce. I'm down from Georgetown to study here."  
"Sarah Barker. I've just moved here myself, from Northcote. Pleased to meet you."  
"So, what are you studying?"  
"I'm planning on doing IT," I told her, as I swiftly filled out the main administrivia bits of the enrollment form. "How about you?"  
"Sociology. I'm having a bit of trouble selecting the breadth courses, though."  
"Same here. I've had two recommendations, both from the people I'm sharing a house with now. One told me to avoid English Literature, the other to skip philosophy and philology."  
"Well, at least that's a start," Maggie laughed. "Look, I'm interested in learning something about computers and the internet, so which of the IT courses would you suggest?"  
I looked down at the list. "Hmmm... how about this one: The Internet: A Socio-Technological Introduction?", I suggested. "Sounds like it's right down your alley."  
Maggie looked at the description. "Sounds interesting," she agreed, "but I'm looking for something which shows me how to use one of these computer thingies without it biting me back."  
I smiled at her. "Okay, in that case, I think there's this one which might help a bit. Internet Computing. Most of the assessment is practical exercises."  
"Hmmm... you may be right," she said, looking at the description.   
"Well, I have to do it as a compulsory subject for my first year," I told her, "so if we're lucky, we'll wind up in the same class."  
"You've convinced me. Now, what about you? What do you want to do to broaden your knowledge base?"  
I laughed. "Wrong question. Ask what I *don't* want to do instead. You'll get a shorter list. As it is, I'm looking at history for one of them. My uncle teaches history at the local highschool, and I figure I can always ask him for some help if I need it." I looked through the available first year units. None of them really caught my imagination, to be honest.  
"How about this one?" Maggie suggested, pointing one out. "Culture and Society. It looks interesting."  
I glanced over the description. I had to admit, it looked more interesting than sitting in a classroom having the events of World War II dinned into my head (again). I put it down on the list. Okay, one more elective each. I wound up chosing "Exploring Technoculture", while Maggie picked a unit in introductory anatomy and physiology. Then we made our way into the queue to get everything checked over by the university's Administrative staff. Once this was done, we picked up our book lists, collected about a thousand different forms to fill in, and looked at one another. It was about ten o'clock, and I could do with a drink.  
  
"Shall we adjourn for a bit, before starting the next stage of the day?" I asked her, pointing to a sign which stated "This way to the Refectory". She nodded, looking as though she could do with a drink too.  
I picked up a bottle of water, while Maggie bought herself a coffee, and then we found a table to collapse at. We drank our drinks, perused the maps of the university we'd been given, and filled in some of the plethora of forms which appeared to have been handed to us. Student Union, student allowance, and I got about halfway through the one for the gay and lesbian student alliance before I bothered to read it, then tore it up, blushing.   
While we were sitting there, I heard a familiar voice calling me. "Hey, Sarah!" It turned out to be Duck, in tow with another boy of about the same age.  
"Hey, Duck!" I yelled back, beckoning him over to our table. "How's things?"  
"Well, me housemates woke up feeling very sore and sorry for 'emselves this mornin', particularly Wazza," he said, laughing. "I've just finished the challenge of tryin' to get through the enrollment form without me brain crawlin' out of me ears. Oh, this is Eric Perkin. 'E's doin' business."  
"Maggie Pierce," said Maggie, introducing herself. "Sociology."  
"Sarah Barker, IT."  
"Duck Drake, IT as well," Eric introduced his friend to Maggie.  
Maggie turned to Duck. "Did your parents really christen you Duck?" Eric started laughing, as Duck mock-punched him.   
"Nah. It's me nickname."  
"Ah, I thought it might be something like that," Maggie said. "Take a seat, gentlemen."  
Duck grabbed a chair and turned it around to lean on the back of it, while Eric dropped off his bag, and went to get a couple of Cokes for the pair of them.   
"So, how're your housemates?" I asked Duck again, wanting to make sure I hadn't done any permanent damage to any of them.   
"Well, Bazza and Dazza are both okay. Both of 'em have bruises to remind 'em not to try pickin' on you again. Wazza's walkin' a bit carefully though," he told me.  
Maggie looked over at the pair of us curiously. "What's this? I sense a story. Tell, tell, tell!"  
Duck obliged her with the story (he'd apparently been watching the whole thing from the shop) while I blushed tomato-red. Maggie gave me a round of applause at the end of the tale, while Eric, who'd walked up halfway through the whole thing, looked at me in astonishment. Luckily, a distraction was provided by a rather attractive blonde girl hailing Eric from the other side of the room. He waved her over, kissing her on the cheek as she arrived.   
"Sheryl, meet Sarah and Maggie. They're both new in town."  
Sheryl stuck out her hand to shake, grinning the whole time. "Pleased to meet you both! Where are you from?"  
We gave our various locations. Sheryl looked a bit surprised that Maggie had moved down to a country town from Flinders, so we got the explanation behind that one. Turned out that Maggie was another one like myself, who got along better with her family when there was a bit of distance between them.   
"It's been even worse these past few months," she said. "I spent twelve months in the UK last year, on a working holiday, and since I got back, I've just felt like I'm being smothered. So I decided to come down here and study, that way I'm doing something that Mum and Dad both approve of, but I'm still being my own person."  
Sheryl turned out to be the middle daughter of a local farming family, who was doing a Commerce degree "in the hope of being able to run something more complex than the CWA cake stall", as she put it. She agreed to take us two out-of-towners under her wing, and show us all the best spots in town.   
At this point, Maggie and I remembered our booklists, which weren't getting any smaller. "We've got to be going," Maggie explained. "We've got these books to pick up".  
  
We made our farewells, swapped phone numbers with Sheryl, and headed on our way to the bookstore. The queue to pay for books was almost out of the door. We looked at each other in dismay. It would take *forever* to get through that. I started thinking quickly.  
"Okay, let's split the workload here," I said. "I'll stand in the queue here, you go fetch the books, and bring them back here. I carry the books and stay in the queue, while you go to the student union and hand in our forms there."  
Maggie nodded enthusiastically. "Sounds like a good idea. Cuts down on the amount of time we're each standing in queues." She dove into the scrum of the bookstore, clutching both of our booklists, while I took my position at the end of the cashier's queue. About five minutes later, she came back, carrying half a dozen large textbooks. "The queue goes past the sociology books, so if you can grab them off the rack as you go past, that'd be great. Give me your student union form?"   
We juggled books, bags, and everything else, trying to sort out money, and soforth. Maggie pointed out the shelf with the sociology books on it, and then disappeared with the two student union forms to go and get those paid for. About five minutes (and six places further up the queue) later, she came back, looking flustered.   
"You forgot to sign yours, Sarah!" she scolded, passing me back the form and her pen, then turning her back so that I could lean on her and sign the form. Then she grabbed the form, the pen, and whisked off again to the student union. Meanwhile, I stood in the queue, chatting to the person in front of me, and the person behind me. Both of them were first-year students, from some of the comments they were making. One law, one commerce. Dale and Vicki. I was about halfway down the queue when Maggie reappeared, to collect the books from me.   
"You'll need to go up to the student union yourself, I'm afraid," she told me. "For some obscure reason they want you to pose for your own student ID photo."  
I grinned at her, handed over the pile of books, performed introductions, and then squeezed through the crowd to get my student ID card set up. This took about twenty minutes by which time, I discovered, Maggie was holding Vicki's books for her, as Vicki had gone to get cups of coffee for the three of them in the queue. I slotted into Vicki's place, and grabbed her books and my own, while we all waited for her to come back. We were about six to eight places from the front of the queue (or at least, Dale was), so the time hadn't been wasted, anyway. Vicki came back bearing coffees when we were all about four places from the front, and I gave her back her books and soforth. By the time we'd all got out of there, it was lunchtime, and I for one was good and hungry.  
  
I raised the eyebrows of my companions, all of whom were dieting, by going for a hamburger for lunch. I wasn't too worried. After all, it didn't matter how much I dieted, I was never going to be a skinny minny, quite frankly. Not with my bone structure. So I had the hamburger, and probably enjoyed it more than they enjoyed their salads. I don't eat them often, but the university ref does a pretty good burger. Toasted bun and all. Very nice.  
By the end of lunch, we'd all swapped our life stories (and caught up with Duck, Eric and Sheryl, who'd come to join us, bringing along a couple of their own contacts from the local area; a rather snooty-looking girl called Keighleigh, and a red-haired boy named Ted). I looked over my various belongings. It looked like I'd done all that I needed to, and when we all cross-checked, we'd pretty much completed everything. Time to head home, I think. Duck offered me a lift home, which was very nice of him, so I phoned up Arthur, and left a message with the teacher who answered, to say that I was getting home under my own steam, and wouldn't need to be picked up.  
  
Duck dropped me off at home, and I went in and started putting my books away. I also got out the Yellow Pages, and looked up the local internet providers. I didn't want to have to deal with Telstra; I'd heard that they could be inconvenient when they wanted to be, and they apparently wanted to be inconvenient all the time. Then I sat down with my mobile, and phoned all the relevant ISPs in the town. There were two large-ish ones, both of whom provided a reasonable service, although both of them were rather on the pricey side for what I wanted. I phoned a few of the smaller ones, but couldn't get anywhere. Either they didn't supply the services I was after (I wanted a relatively stable web server, a well-connected news server, and access to IRC) or they cost even more than the local big two. I eventually gave it up as a waste of time, and headed into the kitchen to start preparing dinner.  
There was some pretty nice steak in the fridge, and after checking with Gus, who said that no, nobody had laid claim to it, and yes, it probably was for dinner tonight, I started doing some preparation. It was a warm enough day that steak and salad sounded like a good idea to me. I put the steak on to marinate with some marinade mix from the cupboard (first rule of cooking in strange larders: use named brands of things you recognise) and started getting the salads together. Just some simple stuff, really - a garden salad, a bit of cold meat, some bread, cheese and various other bits & pieces out of the fridge. Once I'd got everything organised and set out on platters for serving, I covered it all over with cling-wrap, and retired to my room, to play "Civilisation 3" for a while.  
  
Dinner that night was a success. I hadn't tried anything fancy, just asking them all how they liked their steak done. Most of them preferred it very well done (boot leather, what a horrible thing to do to steak) although Gus and I both went for medium-rare. I put all the salads onto the table, and everyone could help themselves. I got praise from most of them, for my efforts, even if some of it sounded suspiciously like praising with faint damns, given that the comparisons between myself and Claire were cited. Claire, apparently, wasn't a good cook. I, on the other hand, had been learning to cook since I was tall enough to see over the counter, and old enough to ask to lick the bowl after Mother had been cooking cakes. It was something I was good at, and it was a simple enough hobby. Very relaxing, too. But it had been a long day again, and I was glad to see my bed that evening.  
  
***  
"I didn't know you could inherit vocabulary."  
"What do you mean, Pip?"  
"Well, she's descended from Aragorn on six branches, from Boromir on five, and from both of them on a further three. She's certainly inherited their fighting spirit, and from what we heard on Sunday, she's inherited their list of swearwords, too."  
Laughter from the other three hobbits.  
"I just want to know whether she's related to any of you four. She's got the height, and the cooking skill for it."  
"Well, now that you come to mention it..."  
*** 


	3. Southport Derby

My thanks for this chapter go to:  
1) Adam East, the writer of the 4 part Guide to Australian Rules Football [URL], for his invaluable reference material;   
2) To my father for twenty years of winter Saturdays and Sundays watching first VLF, then AFL on the TV;   
3) To my brother Michael, for mercifully not getting involved in the sport.   
4) Carna Dockers! [URL here - what the hells!]  
  
**The Southport Derby**  
  
Football was starting to become a divisive issue at number 33. It had all started when Boris came home on extended leave, of course. He'd immediately been welcomed back by the West Bank club with open arms, as they'd been missing their best goal-scorer. Arthur is playing for Southport, so as a result, any discussion of football on the local scene turns somewhat personal. Fortunately, most of the household supports the Georgetown Eagles for the national competition, so that's one less thing to argue about. I'm about the only holdout there, but since I affect an absolute indifference to football (the only reason I'm going to the matches at all is family loyalty) nobody seems to have noticed.  
Anyway, as a grand season opener, the local league decided to kick things off with a Southport Derby. The Demons versus the Warriors at the local oval. It's one of two derbies for the season, with the other happening as the grand season closer. Of course, the three men have been out training for this for ages, all doing their running together (Larry doesn't play for either team; he umpires). George apparently coaches the little league team for the Warriors, so he's been out running with them as well.   
It was the first weekend in April. The weather was still reasonably warm, although the evenings were starting to get chilly and the breeze was brisk by mid-afternoon. I'd been asked to come along to the match by the whole household (mainly because if were were all there, we could all avoid three different re-tellings of the same match). This was apparently standard household policy for the Southport derbies. I could see it becoming standard policy on my part when the Northcote under-19s and under-15s teams played down here, too, simply so I could say to Neil and Keith "yes, I know". I was wearing a comfortable jumper and jeans, which meant that I was under-dressed, compared to a lot of the women there. Or possibly over-dressed. There seemed to be a lot of midriff tops, skimpy skirts and gooseflesh in evidence in the female part of the crowd. This apparently included Vicki, Dale, Sheryl and Keighleigh, who'd all agreed to come with me to the footy. I asked the obvious question.  
"So, why are you lot all tarted up?"  
"Well," Dale laughed, "there's all those spunky guys right there on the ground in front of us. We'd be fools if we didn't give them some kind of incentive to play well!"  
"Yeah. And of course the spunkiest of the lot is that one!" said Sheryl, pointing a finger at a figure in black and red who was involved in the warm-up run around the ground. Arthur. Of course. I'd forgotten Sheryl's crush on him.   
Meanwhile, Vicki was looking hotly at the opposite team. "I'll take... that one," she said, pointing her finger at one of the men in blue and white.   
"That's my uncle Boris," I told her.  
"You are *kidding*," she squealed. "You are *sooooo* lucky!"  
"Okay, Sarah," Dale said. "Time for you to earn your keep. One introduction each, I think."  
"There's three of you, two of them. Who's going to be missing out?" I grinned back.  
"No, one introduction for each of us to each of them," Dale clarified.  
"Sheesh, I dunno, bloody law students," I laughed at her. "Okay, you're all on. C'mon, I'll introduce you to the rest of the household. Well, almost all of them."  
I led them over to where the others were and introduced everyone to everyone else. There was a slight distraction when the umpires ran onto the field and Dale went all weak at the knees.   
"Ooh, who's the blond one?" she said, sounding somewhat awe-struck. I looked where she was pointing. Yup, thought so.   
"That's Larry. He's the missing one of the household," I sighed. Mark gave me a funny look.   
"I'll tell you later," I told him. "That's if you haven't guessed by then." I glanced over at my three friends, all of whom were directing languishing looks at the field and sighed again. Sam appeared to notice where my glance went and chuckled.   
"So, Sarah, who's your pick as the spunkiest?" The question came from Vicki, who'd drawn herself out of her hormonally-induced coma to actually realise that I hadn't chosen a target for my attentions. I snorted. If I was honest, I was pretty much tied between Arthur and Boris, both of whom looked very, very nice indeed, although I'd rather have been burned at the stake than admit it. Larry was a bit thin for my liking and most of the other men on the field were a bit young for my taste. I decided to be purposefully vague.   
"Too close to pick," I said. "How about you, Keighleigh?". Keighleigh seemed to be in a bit of a brown study. I waved a hand in front of her face. "Earth to Keighleigh, come in Keighleigh!"  
She shook herself out of her bemusement. "Oh, sorry. I was just watching... Duck, was it?"  
I looked over where she had been watching. Yup, there was Duck, who was acting as a runner for the Demons. Interesting, it appeared that Keighleigh had decided to fall for Duck in a big way. Which was very sweet, except that he had no idea that she was even vaguely interested in him. Knowing the way that computer types tend to be about things like noticing interactions with the opposite sex, I thought some advice might be in order. Then again, given that Keighleigh was a very aristocratic looking blonde lass, maybe she wouldn't appreciate it. Of course, on the gripping hand....  
"Look, Keighleigh, I don't mean to pry, but..."  
"You want to know how I feel about Duck? I like him. He's interesting, funny and good company. He doesn't treat me as though I were something special just because of who my father is, he listens to what I'm saying and he doesn't talk down to me either. I really like him. I just wish I knew how he felt about me."  
"Hmm... well, judging from what he says in the car on the way home, he likes you, too," I told her. Her eyes lit up. "Hey, hey, I just said 'likes'. He also likes Sheryl, Maggie, Dale and Vicki, as well as Red, Stewie, Eric and Blue. He thinks of you as a friend, a mate, if you will. You're friendly to him, he's friendly to you. Duck's fairly uncomplicated that way, I've noticed. No bullshit."  
"You've noticed that too? I think that was the first thing I liked about him," she said, smiling.   
A cheer from around us - there'd been a goal scored, the first of the match. The Warriors and Boris was surrounded by team-mates patting him on the back. Vicki was jumping up and down and squealing "Go the Warriors". Another centre bounce; Dale was busy commenting on Larry's skill at doing the bounce.   
Keighleigh and I looked at one another and laughed. "We're missing one," I murmured to her, just as Sheryl let loose a terrific yell of "Goooo Demons!" that was probably heard halfway to Georgetown. Well, probably not quite *that* far, but I was expecting a couple of questions from Mother about it tonight when she phoned from Northcote. The yell coincided with Arthur gaining possession of the ball in a ruck duel against the Warriors ruckman, who unfortunately was missing a crucial inch in height compared with my uncle. The Warriors defence were good, but not quite good enough and Arthur managed to pass the ball off to one of the Demons forwards, who scored a goal. One all, six points on the board for each team. Only about three minutes into the match, too.   
  
I looked at the queue at the refreshments stand (a caravan wedged up on blocks). Not that big, but it would probably get worse fairly quickly. I looked over at Keighleigh. "How do you feel about doing a drinks run?" I asked her.  
She nodded. "Sounds like a good idea. Shall we ask the rest of your housemates as well?"  
"Yeah, why not. It'll give me something to do. I don't mind footy, but honestly, I'd rather watch the edited highlights in front of the telly." I shrugged. "Side effect of two younger brothers fanatically interested in the sport from the time they were old enough to get into Little League and of a mother who insists on family participation."  
Keighleigh looked at me sympathetically and gave me a big smile. "I can quite understand that. I feel much the same way about equestrian events. Horses are all very nice, but standing around for three days while my sister evented gave me sore feet and chilblains." We both laughed together, then walked over to ask everyone what they wanted to drink.  
  
"Okay, that's three Cokes, one without ice; one bottle of water; one white tea, sugars are in the container there; one black tea; two cappuccinos; two flat whites. That'll be twenty dollars, thanks."  
I juggled out the money and started collecting the various cups. The woman behind the counter of the refreshments van noticed that we had ten drinks and four hands, and decided to come to our assistance.   
"Here, lovey, use this," she told me, handing over a tray. Keighleigh and I both smiled at her.   
"Thanks. We'll bring it straight back," I told her. She just smiled at us and helped to put the cups onto it, then threw on about six teaspoons and a dozen sugars. Once we had all of that sorted out, Keighleigh and I made our way back to our party, Keighleigh (being taller than I was) had taken possession of the tray, while I acted as icebreaker cum dredge, finding a path through the crowd that was gathering around the refreshment van.   
"All I can say, Sarah, is thank goodness you had that notebook and pencil on hand", she told me as we slowly wandered back. "Otherwise we'd be getting complaints from everyone. I couldn't have kept that amount of information straight."  
"Old girl Guide trick," I said. "Be prepared. Actually, it's something I picked up when I was at yet another sporting event with my family. I don't mind being the drinks runner for a large gathering, so I'd do the drinks for my family and any of the families of my brother's friends who wound up being anywhere near us. After the first time I stuffed up a large order, I started carrying the notebook and the pencil as a precaution. Entirely too practical, me."  
We made our way back to where everyone else was sitting (or at least, Gus was sitting, most of the rest were standing, leaning over the fence and yelling at the top of their lungs). I took a look at the action on the field. Boris had the ball and was running flat out trying to get within range of the goal square, while Arthur was in full pursuit. Larry was keeping pace with the two of them, keeping an eye on the state of play, while George was running down the sidelines keeping up with the main action. Duck was running down the sidelines on the other side of the field. The action came to an abrupt end when Arthur tackled Boris, resulting in possession of the ball going to the Demons (one of their backs grabbed it). I was probably the only one who actually remained watching the action behind play, as Arthur helped Boris up and the two of them swapped a grin, a comment and a clasp of arms. Hmm... interesting. Another piece of information to add to the puzzle that was my two "uncles".  
  
Anyway, after the fun had happened, everyone else in the group seemed to notice that Keighleigh and I had arrived with the drinks. We handed out refreshments to everyone. I took the tray back to the drinks stand and decided to grab a seat next to Gus. I took a look at the scoreboard. Demons, two goals; Warriors, one goal, two behinds. Looked like the Warriors were doing better on possessions, but the Demons had the accuracy. I made this comment within Vicki's hearing and nearly got deafened by her shriek of indignation. Vicki's a nice enough friend, but she does tend to live life at the extremes of her vocal cords. It gets a bit wearing when you're on the listening end. I turned away to drink in peace and noticed that Sam was looking at me, slightly curiously. I gave him a smile and started watching the game a little more closely.   
I've never really had more than a passing interest in football, although I've learned a lot more about the game than I ever wanted to through living with Neil and Keith. Either way, I could tell from what I was seeing before me that there were maybe about a half dozen footballers on the ground who were "district" team quality. Then there were my two uncles, who quite frankly would have slotted nicely into the Georgetown Eagles without having to do more than change jerseys. It was a bit of a mystery to me what they were doing just playing in a couple of district league teams. Surely they must have been approached by talent scouts? Something more to consider, I suppose.  
  
The first quarter ended with a score of six goals, five behinds (41 points total) to the Demons; five goals, six behinds (36 points) to the Warriors. The two teams changed ends and both of my uncles were off the ground onto the interchange bench. Of course, this was the signal for both Vicki and Sheryl to grab me and demand introductions, something which I declined to do.   
"Not until after the game, okay?" I told them both. "They're still concentrating on the game and if you break that concentration, they'll probably both be angry. Is that the first impression you want to make?" Two heads shaken. Phew, I'd managed to fob them both off. I watched the game a bit further. With the absence of Arthur and Boris, the two teams still seemed to be fairly evenly matched. The Demons weren't winning the ruck duels quite as readily, the Warriors weren't kicking as many goals and the overall scoring rate slowed down a fair amount, but by the end of the second quarter, the Warriors were in the lead, seven goals twelve (54 points) to seven goals six (48 points) to the Demons.   
  
Half time and everyone was hungry and thirsty again. Keighleigh and I volunteered to do the snack and drink run, scribbled down the orders in the notebook and headed up to the refreshments van. This time we were accompanied by Fred, who had his own "special" order that he had to place personally. We were going to join the queue, but Fred told us to follow him around to the back of the caravan. Shrugging, we did so; ordering for ten people entitled us to some kind of special treatment, after all. When we got there, Fred scrambled up the steps and knocked on the door. The door was answered by the woman who had served us earlier.   
"Hullo Joy," Fred greeted her.  
"Ah, Fred!," she cried, reaching down to give him a hug. "I was wondering when you'd turn up!"  
"Well, I'm here now and after my usual," he told her, with a big smile. "Oh, and I'd like to introduce you to someone." He turned to me, gesturing for me to come forward. From the top step, he was just the right height to be able to put his arm around my shoulders. "This is Sarah, Arthur's niece. She's sharing the house with us this year while she studies at the university."  
Joy looked at me and apparently recognised me. "Oh yes, the lass with the large drinks order. I should've guessed!" She extended a hand, which I took and shook. "Pleased to meet you. Are you going to be coming to the matches regularly?"  
"I think so," I told her. "Not only are both Arthur and Boris my uncles, but my brothers are both on the Northcote sides. I think you'll be seeing a lot of me this year."  
"And who's the other lass there?" Joy asked  
I beckoned Keighleigh forward. "This is Keighleigh, she's a friend of mine from Uni. Neither of us are all that interested in football, so we volunteered to do the food and drinks runs."  
Keighleigh shook hands with Joy and exchanged all the normal pleasantries.  
"Well," Joy stated at the end of the introductions, "if you're both going to be regulars, with large orders, I'd say you'd be better off coming up to the back here, rather than waiting in the queue. I've no problems with it, but do try not to coincide with the rush times, like half time."  
I was very pleased with this (waiting in queues has never been my favourite form of entertainment) and thanked Joy for the privilege she'd granted us. "Ah, that's no trouble, love," she said, waving the thanks off. "It's easier all round to give out large orders through the back door. Now, what can we do for you at this point?"  
I pulled out the notebook from my bag, which got a grin from Joy.   
"Ah, an organised lass! I'll have to see whether I can get you working here!" I grinned back and ripped off the sheet with the orders on it.   
"Will this be easier for you?" I asked. A nod from Joy, who accepted the sheet and scanned it briefly.   
"Hmm... some of these might take a bit of cooking. It'll be about five minutes. D'you mind waiting?"  
Keighleigh and I both shook our heads. I actually appreciated the relative quiet behind the van, as I find myself rather sensitive to too much noise. Besides, this got me away from the rampant hormones of Sheryl, Vicki and Dale; as far as I was concerned, this was a Good Thing. Particularly in the cases of Sheryl and Vicki, both of whom were making me rather irritated with their very obvious drooling over my two uncles. Mainly, I have to admit, because I wanted to join them and couldn't. Or at least, not publicly.  
  
I suppose this must have been showing on my face (I've never been particularly good at hiding my emotions) or maybe Keighleigh was just thinking along the same lines, for she asked me out of the blue, "Sarah, what's the actual relationship between yourself and your uncles? I mean, are they on your father's side, your mother's side, what's the story there?"  
"I'm not actually sure, to be honest," I replied. "I mean, I'm reasonably sure that they're related to me through mother's side of the family, because she's the one who brought us to visit when we were younger. But I don't know for certain what the relationship is. I suppose it's one of those sort of fifth-cousin-twice-removed-by-marriage things. I've just always been told to call them 'uncle' because they're older than I am."  
"Hmm. I thought as much," was the rather surprising reply. "You don't look all that much like them, to be honest. You've got a few similarities around the eyes and the cheekbones, but aside from that, there's not much family resemblance to be seen. I had to look really hard just to see that, too."  
"That's true," said Fred, from where he was sitting at the top of the caravan steps. I'd forgotten he'd come around here with us; he's very good at fading into the background when he wants to. Must be a side-effect of being a librarian. "Actually, the main way that Sarah resembles either of them is in her behaviour."  
"You what?" I queried. Not very coherently, I must admit.  
"Your behaviour," Fred reiterated. "From the very start, you've treated myself, Mark, Pip and Sam like adults, rather than like children, which has been rather refreshing. Plus you've got a few characteristics in common with both of them. You're very responsible, very dutiful and very much focussed on getting the job done. You look after people and you try to take care of everything."  
I blushed. "Oh, come *on*, that makes me sound like an angel," I said. "I'm not that bloody good."  
"Well, no," Keighleigh agreed. "You're also pig-headedly stubborn, bad tempered and you swear like a trooper whenever anything goes wrong. But at the time when you're swearing, you're also figuring out how to fix whatever it is. I saw that the other day, when Duck's car broke down in the rain."  
Fred laughed. "Now, that definitely sounds like both Arthur and Boris. Particularly Boris."  
I blushed even more. Luckily, at that point I was saved any further blushes, by Joy opening up the door of the caravan and bringing out two trays with our orders on them. Food, drinks and one "meat pie floater".  
"Oh good, you remembered!" said Fred, smiling up at Joy as he paid for the combined orders.   
Keighleigh, meanwhile, was looking at the "floater" with something very much akin to barely-concealed horror. Oh yes, I'd forgotten. She hadn't seen one before. Lucky girl. I looked over at Fred.   
"Okay, when did you get a taste for those?" I asked  
"Oh, some years ago, when I was living in Melbourne," he replied. "They're actually quite nice, but Joy's the only person around here who'll make them for me."  
"I'm not surprised," I commented dryly. "Most right-thinking people on this side of the continent tend to see them as aberrations against the true nature of the meat pie. You get to carry that one yourself, Fred."  
  
He grinned at me and took the "floater" off the tray. We headed back to the rest of the group. Duck was leaning up against the fence near the rest of them, laughing with Sheryl about something. Vicki and Dale were talking with Mark and Pip, although from the looks on the faces of that little foursome, none of them were really enjoying it all that much. Gus was buried deep in his newspaper, but looked up at the smell of the food. I walked over to where he was sitting and handed him his meal and his second cup of tea.  
"Thank you very much, Sarah dear. You're a good girl to do all of this for us all," he commented, as he took the lid off the cup. I grinned.  
"Naah, it's just that I'm not that fond of football," I explained. "Doing the food and drink runs gives me something to do."  
I got a smile from the old man, one that had a twinkle lying deep within it and seemed to imply that he knew my true reasons better than I did myself. Well, then again, maybe he did. It's not as though I'm the world's best liar, after all. I wandered over to where Mark and Pip were standing and offered them their food and drinks. Vicki and Dale had moved off to get their stuff from Keighleigh, who'd made a beeline to where Sheryl was standing.  
"Thanks, Sarah," they both said, tucking into the pie, chips and gravy that they'd each ordered. I looked around for Sam, because I had a burger on my tray which looked like being his, as well as Keighleigh's hot dog. Obviously we'd got the wrong trays when Joy handed them over. Sam materialised at my elbow, or at least that's what it seemed like (although I'm sure that he'd actually been off at the Gents, dealling with the queue there). I handed him his food and drink, received a "thank you" from him and looked around to find Keighleigh.   
I soon found her standing just behind Sheryl, who was still monopolising Duck. If looks had any power at all, Sheryl would have been stretched dead upon the ground, with several large knives in her back. As it was, I had to try my hardest not to burst out laughing at the sight. I would have thought by now that Keighleigh was aware of Sheryl's bad habit of flirting with just about anything male in range. Apparently not.  
"Keighleigh, I think I've got your hot dog here," I called, from about five steps away. "D'you have my ham, cheese & tomato sandwich?"  
That distracted all three of them long enough that I was able to cover the remaining distance and greet Duck. Keighleigh had enough time to regain her composure and smile as she swapped the hot dog for the sandwich. I grabbed her tray from her to take back with me. I asked Sheryl to accompany me, on the excuse that I needed to go to the loo and for that, I needed someone to hold the toilet door (I didn't know about the last, but going on the standard lock on most public conveniences, I was pretty sure it would be accurate). Sheryl agreed willingly; apparently she had to go as well. We went past the refreshments van, where I dropped off the trays at the front. Then we made our way to the loos. The length of the queue was enough that I'd had time to scoff my sandwich by the time that I got near the toilet block.  
  
"Okay, Sarah, what are you up to?" Sheryl asked, just as soon as I'd got safely into a cubicle.   
"Saving your life," I told her. "If you'd spoken to Duck for just three minutes more, I think Keighleigh would have tried to kill you."  
"What do you mean?"  
"I mean that Keighleigh likes Duck. Really likes Duck."  
"Oh. Oh! Oh, I see."  
"Yup, but no teasing her about it. Otherwise, I tell my uncle precisely how you feel about him. Got that?"  
"Sarah, you are *evil*! Okay, I won't tease her. And I'll stop flirting with Duck so much. I don't want him in that way at all, you know."  
"Yeah, I know. I know, you know, Duck knows, but Keighleigh can't quite believe it, especially when you keep flirting with him."  
"Point taken, already! Now hurry up in there. I need to go too!"  
  
When we came out, the third quarter was under way. Sheryl headed straight for the fences at high speed, to try and see whether Arthur was on interchange this quarter (he wasn't; I'd looked on the field for his number. He was chasing after the ball, which was in posession of the Warriors ruckman). I made my way back in a more leisurely fashion, winding up next to Sam.   
"How're you liking the game, Sarah?" he asked me.  
"It's pretty good. Looks like it's going to be close if things continue this way."  
"The derbies usually are. Arthur and Boris always enjoy them."  
"I'm not surprised. They're probably the best players on the field. I'm surprised they're not playing in the WAFL, or even in the Eagles squad. Is the local recruiter blind or something?"  
Sam laughed. "No, he's not blind. That's him over there." He pointed out a tall, solid man, who was watching the game with binoculars and a sour expression. "He asks them about three or four times a season each, but they both say that they like it too much here."  
"Even Boris? I thought he was with the army?"  
"He is. He keeps coming back here on leave, though. The Warriors are looking forward to this season, because he's going to be here for all of it. Generally, they only get him for the few matches of his furloughs. From what George was saying earlier this week, I think they're hoping to get the championship cup for the first time in years."  
"Hmm. Yeah, I know that Northcote has hopes for the cup in the Colts division. Keith was fairly enthusiastic about it. I think I'm going to be spending a lot of Saturdays here, to be honest."  
"Fred was saying that Joy seemed fairly enthusiastic about having you on the refreshment stand crew."  
"I thought she was joking. That's what it seemed like, anyway."  
"No, if Joy's mentioned it, she's serious. You might want to think about it; after all, it'd give you something better to do than just doing food and drink runs for us."  
I thought about this for a bit. A question came to mind. "Sam, who did the food and drink runs before I came along?"  
"I did." He grinned at me. I laughed back.   
"And you'd like your distraction back, I take it?"  
"Well, if you don't mind, Miss Sarah." Would you believe, he actually seemed shy about it. I gave him a big smile, then stood up.   
"I think it's about time for another drinks run, don't you? I've got the order from last time; shall we check whether everyone wants the same thing again?"  
He grinned back at me.  
  
We walked up to the refreshment stand slowly, after checking that everyone wanted another drink. Same as last time, so I didn't have to throw out my notepad page. Joy greeted us both at the back door.   
"Hello Sam, nice to see you again. How's the garden doing?"  
"Oh, it's doing fine, Joy. Getting some very nice cabbages this year. Lemons might be a bit of a problem, though. Too much salt spray from the wind this year, one of them's got rather badly burned."  
"Hullo Joy," I said. She smiled at me. "I've got another drink order here and the money ready as well."  
"Oh good. Let's have a look then; ah, same as last time. Won't be a tick, lovey."  
Joy was as good as her word and quickly assembled the drinks on a tray.   
"There you go."  
"Thanks," I said. "Just out of interest, were you serious about what you said earlier? About wanting me to work here?"  
"Oh yes. I could do with another set of hands and I could definitely do with another organised person; it'd give me a chance to have a cuppa of my own at times."  
"Well, I'm going to have to be out here just about every weekend, it's looking like: on top of George, Arthur, Boris and Larry, I've got two brothers in the Northcote teams and my mother would have fits if I weren't here to watch the games. You've got a good view of the scoreboard there, so I should be fine."  
Joy laughed, a big laugh full of happiness. "I'll let you in on a secret, lovey: my husband's the one who runs the scoreboard, so I have to be here every week, from go to whoa!"  
"You don't like football either?"   
"This type? Can't stand it. Not like the proper stuff."  
"The proper stuff, as far as Joy is concerned, is Rugby," Sam dropped in. "Shall we take the drinks back before they get cold?"  
"Oh, yeah. See you next week, Joy?"  
"Yup. Be here around 9am and I'll show you how we open up, okay?"  
I nodded my agreement and took the tray back with Sam leading the way. Then we both distributed the drinks and Sam took the tray back.   
  
Without the distraction of another food or drinks run, I wound up watching the rest of the match with the gang. The game turned out really tight, with the Demons winning by 1 point over the Warriors. The final scoreline wound up being eleven goals, ten behinds (76 points total) to the Demons, ten goals, fifteen points (75 points total) to the Warriors. Sheryl was overjoyed, especially given that Arthur had scored what she termed to be the winning behind (it had happened about ten minutes into the third quarter and had evened up the scores at that time). Vicki was only marginally less happy and Dale was overjoyed about the quality of the umpiring (or so she said, anyway. I wasn't going to argue, it wasn't worth it). We all waited by the changeroom doors at the back of the stands and greeted Arthur, Larry and Boris when they all came out. As I'd promised earlier, I introduced each of my friends to the three of them. They got a polite "hello" from Larry, a friendly one from Arthur and a cheerful one from Boris. They also got invited over for dinner by Gus (it was Sam's turn to cook and he's a very good cook when it comes to stretching a meal a little further) as did Duck. Everyone accepted and we set off home.  
  
***  
"Now why did Gus do that?"  
"It's a habit of his."  
"What do you mean?"  
"Think about it."  
"Oh. Oh yes."  
*** 


	4. Confrontations.

***Confrontations***  
  
It started on Saturday night. Vicki, Dale and Sheryl had asked me to come out with them to the pub, for a "girls night out". They hadn't bothered asking Keighleigh; she and Duck were so much of an item that it was almost inconceivable that she'd go out without him. They also hadn't asked Maggie, partially because she was regarded as being "stuck up" and "snooty" by Vicki; but mainly because she happened to be a lot better looking than all three of them, even when she was covering up her elven good looks. I don't know why I was invited along. Hang on, scratch that. I knew *precisely* why I was invited along. I was the skipper. I got to watch the three of them get roaring drunk, throw themselves at whichever men they fancied, and then I got the joyous task of dragging them back to their place at the end of the night; provided, of course, that they hadn't found someone else to take them home. I was also less good looking than any of them, so I could be safely be brought along without jepoardising their chances with whichever men were in the bar. Sometimes I really do curse my good nature.  
Today was one of those times. I'd spent a hard day working in the van: Joy had been off with flu, so I'd had to do everything myself. I was tired, and I had the beginnings of a sinus headache. All I really wanted was to take a nice long bath, and head off to bed at about eight o'clock and sleep for about twelve hours. I certainly didn't want to go off to the pub with three confirmed pissheads and spend my night watching over the three of them to make sure that they didn't get paralytic, or assaulted. I also didn't want a night of listening to the bitchy comments that Vicki made about everyone the moment she got even slightly pissed. So I was in a sour mood to start with, a mood which didn't improve when Vicki told us which of the pubs in town we were going to. The Sportsmans Arms. The footy pub. The one that the entire Warriors and Falcons teams would be at, busy celebrating their win (in the case of the Warriors) or commiserating on their loss (for the Falcons). I should have known. Vicki had lately got a lot more blatant in her chasing after Boris. It seemed that with Dale having openly admitted defeat in trying to get Larry to fancy her, and Sheryl having got nowhere with Arthur for the last three years, Vicki was trying to score points. Or rather, just to score. The clothes she was wearing tonight suited her blonde prettiness very well, and covered up slightly less flesh than my rather ratty scarf. I felt like mentioning that a transparent chiffon blouse, no matter how "modest" the cut, is not the sort of thing you wear into a bar full of rowdy, randy footballers. It was *not* going to be a good night, no matter how I sliced it.  
I followed them in, and took my place at the front of the table. It was my job to get the first round of drinks. Vicki tried to kick things off by ordering a cocktail. One of those ones with the double-entendre names. I looked at her, the beginnings of the headache a distant pain behind my eyes.  
"Vicki, if you want to make yourself look like a desperate fool, go right ahead. But kindly leave me out of it," I told her. She looked affronted (something else that boded badly for the night) but changed her order to a rum and coke. I had no doubt that she'd be ordering the cocktail she'd wanted me to ask for a little later on in the evening. Within Boromir's hearing, no doubt. My temper worsened. Sheryl and Dale apparently came to the conclusion that trying my patience tonight would result in the pair of them either walking home, or calling a cab, neither of which were really on their agenda. They ordered nice safe drinks as well. One brandy and dry; one gin and tonic. I walked up to the bar, placed their three orders and asked for a lemon, lime and bitters for myself. The barman was a bloke I vaguely remembered from uni. I think he was doing a course in Psychology. Presumably he got enough raw material here to keep him busy. He quickly set up the drinks for me and gave me a sympathetic smile.   
"You their skipper?" he asked. I nodded ruefully.   
"I don't envy you," he told me. "Look, if you need a hand, the name's Dean, just give me a yell and I'll be over there in a jiff, okay?"  
"Thanks," I said, giving him a half-smile. "I'll let you know."  
I'd just got the drinks onto a tray to take over, when the Warriors team came through the door. Boromir at the head of the pack, of course. One of the nice little side-effects for him of being immortal was that his ability to consume alcohol had apparently become infinite. He could get to the happy stage on one or two drinks and stay there all night, with no ill-effects and no hangover the next morning. Add to this his very real gift for command and instilling cameraderie in a group of followers and you had a man who fit the bill for "Life of the Party" at any boozy gathering of the footy team.   
He gave me a cheerful greeting, grabbed the tray away from me and passed it to one of his teammates. Then he enveloped me in a big bear hug, lifting me off the floor, with a kiss on the cheek included as part of the package. A large part of me was very pleased to see him and extremely happy to get the hug (had his hand slipped rather low on my hip deliberately?). The other part of me happened to be the bit which had been looking over his shoulder and had seen the angry, posessive, vindictive expression on Vicki's face. It definitely wasn't going to be a good night. Vicki got up from our table and came over to presume on her friendship with me, to get a hug of her own. She also planted a kiss on his cheek (she'd been aiming for his mouth. He'd dodged) and batted her eyelashes at him. I took the tray back from the team member who'd been holding it for me and carried it over to the table. Sheryl and Dale had wandered over to say hello to the Warriors players as well. I grabbed my drink, sat down and watched.  
Vicki was all over Boromir like a rash. He apparently didn't mind. Presumably after six thousand years, he was used to it. I slowly drank my drink, small sips at a time. He seemed to be almost playing up to her. How could he stand it? She was so obvious, so very posessive, and kept throwing glances at me, as if to say "hands off". Dammit, I was his niece, as far as she knew. I had more right to be touching him than she did. I finished my drink and realised that I really didn't want to watch this all night. I also didn't want to cause a scene, which is what would almost certainly happen if I tried to talk to Vicki about this. She was onto her third drink already, which meant that she wasn't going to be reasonable any time soon. If, indeed, she ever was. Instead, I walked over to where Dale was talking with a couple of the players.   
"Dale, I'm sorry, but I'm really not feeling too good. Must be this flu that's going around. I'm going home. Do you mind telling Sheryl and Vicki for me?"  
Dale nodded. Thank all the gods she wasn't stupid. "I'll tell them. No hard feelings, okay?"  
"Okay."  
I walked out of the bar, not stopping, not looking back. Drove home, said a brief hello, then goodnight to the rest of the household and went up to my bed. I hadn't been lying about not feeling good. I was feeling furious, although I didn't know why.   
  
***  
"Dale, where's Sarah? I want to go somewhere else."  
"Sarah went home ages ago."  
"Why?"  
"Why do you think, Vicki?"  
"Why don't you tell me?"  
"All right, I'll tell you. Sarah left because she's not the doormat you seem to think she is. She won't tamely watch you throwing yourself at her uncle and then ferry you to wherever you want to go next. Use a bit of bloody common sense, Vicki, for god's sake!"  
"What business is it of hers what I do? Bloody jealous cow."  
"Vicki! He's her uncle."  
"Fuck her. She wants him. I can see it. She can't have him. He's *mine*."  
"You're drunk. Or just plain stupid."  
"She just wants him because I want him. I'm better looking than she is, bloody jealous fat cow. He's fucking mine. Sarah can just fuck off. Who'd want her anyway? Fat bitch."  
"Well, if you're that fucking sure, you'd better lower your voice. 'Your' man just heard every word you said, and he doesn't look happy."  
***  
  
Next morning, I woke up feeling tired and headachy, with a sore throat as well. Maybe I did have the flu after all. It figured. I could get through entire terms without any ill-effects, but the minute I started a holiday, I came down with whatever was flying about at that point in time. I decided to go downstairs and make myself some hot honey and lemon, to soothe my throat.  
I got to the kitchen and saw that the only person there was Boromir, sitting at the table, nursing a cup of coffee. He looked up at me and I guessed from the way that he looked at me that he might have been depending on me or my presence to crowbar Vicki off him. As if! Vicki wasn't going to listen to anyone else about him, least of all me. I was only his niece; even if I'd been his wife, I wouldn't have stood a chance of standing between Vicki and what she wanted. Her opinion of men was simple: they were put there to serve her whims, her needs. Nobody else mattered. I almost turned and walked back to my bedroom again, but decided to brazen it out. I walked over to the pantry and started assembling ingredients.  
"Why did you head home so early last night?" His voice from behind me. He was still at the table, by the sound of things.   
"I wasn't feeling well," I replied. I'd found the honey, but there weren't any lemons available. I'd have to go outside and pick one from the tree. I walked toward the kitchen door, only to find my way blocked.  
"No, Sarah. Don't tell me half the truth. Why did you leave so early?"  
"I am telling you the truth. I left because I wasn't feeling well. I'm still not feeling well now: my head aches, I'm tired, and my throat's sore."  
"Now how about the rest of the truth?"  
"What do you mean 'the rest of the truth'? I've told you all there is to tell. Now let me get to the door."  
"Why? So you can escape? Answer the question, I'll let you through."  
"No, so that I can get myself a lemon from the tree. My throat hurts, I need some lemon and honey."  
"Here." He tossed me a lemon from the basket on top of the freezer. "Now will you stop hedging and tell me the truth?"  
"What truth do you want to hear, dammit?" My voice was starting to rise, both in volume and in pitch. "The one that says that I left because I didn't want to see my friend throwing herself at you like the silly tart she is? The one which says that I knew where she wanted to wind up by the end of the night?"  
"That would be a start, yes. Although why you persist in calling Vicki a friend of yours is beyond me. I've seen orcs that were more loyal to their comrades than that young woman is to her so-called friends."  
"You don't have to tell me that. I already know she's about as sincere as a political promise. I suppose you'd also like the truth that says that I was sickened by your accepting her advances, letting her come on to you that way? Dammit, you can do so much better than her."  
"Such as? Which of them would you pair me up with, Sarah, if Vicki isn't good enough? Sheryl? She's interested in Aragorn, not me. I stopped picking up his leftovers long ago. Dale? Same thing, only change the name of the lust object to Legolas."  
"None of them. You're too old for all of them. Way too old. If they knew your real age they'd be sickened."  
"Oooh, nasty."  
"Stop patronising me, dammit. Hells, it's not like it's any of my business which damn fool tart you fuck next. It wasn't any of my business in the first place. What is my business is why I left last night and I've told you, it was because I was feeling ill. If I have any other reasons, they're my business and none of yours. Now stop bloody well hounding me."  
Silence from the other side of the room. I was tense, quivering with fury. Part of the fury was at myself, because I'd realised just which person I wanted to put into Boromir's bed. Me. The other part of the fury was at Boromir, for making me aware of this. He must have seen the fury in my eyes and guessed its source, because he smiled at me, walked forward and kissed me full on the lips.   
He was damn good at it.  
"Just a taste of what you're missing," he said, as he broke the contact.   
I threw the lemon at him. Hard. Then stomped out of the room, past Aragorn, who'd apparently just come down, back to my bed.  
  
Back in my bedroom, I realised that at least part of the reason I was so damn angry was that I'd been forced to face up to a colossal amount of truth in a short dose. Firstly, Vicki wasn't a friend, no matter how much I wanted her to be. Instead, she was just using me as a way of getting an introduction to Boromir and Aragorn (I'd seen the looks she'd been giving them. I used those same looks myself, when I was weighing up whether or not to buy a piece of software, or a book) or a convenient skipper. I couldn't understand why Dale stuck with her, aside from the very straightforward reason that they were flatmates.  
I'd heard her comments, the ones she made behind my back, when she thought I couldn't hear. I'd heard about her "party trick" of impersonating me, making fun of my failings. I'd heard her comments about my weight, all the nice snide ones that she made with a smile on her face. I had no idea why I'd put up with them for so long. Maybe it was just inertia. Maybe it was just that I didn't want to make a scene, drag her face through the mud. Maybe I was just a fool.  
That last was starting to seem very likely. Especially when I contemplated how I felt about both Boromir and Aragorn. Damn it, I wanted them. Problem was, I couldn't really make a play for them. For starters, all of the arguments I'd use against my friends getting together with them were true of me. They were far too old, they could do much much better and to top it all off, they were both my ancestors. I could probably find out the exact degree of consanguinity from Frodo, Sam, Merry or Pippin, but I was sure that it'd be fairly high. If I was honest, I'd have to admit that it was a nice thought, but highly unlikely.  
Mind you, if that were the case, why did Boromir say what he said? Why did he do what he did? Or was he just teasing me?   
  
***  
"Is there any particular reason why you have to stage scenes first thing in the morning?"  
"Not really. She's interested."  
"I know. I've known for a while."  
"I'd say she's the one."  
"So would I. But would she?"  
A rueful grin. "Judging from this morning's effort, I'd say not."  
***  
  
I wound up falling asleep again shortly after my slightly confused thoughts had finished hamsterwheeling about the question of what had been intended by that kiss. This was rare for me - usually I'm pretty much diurnal most of the time. It was a pretty good indicator that I had the flu. So were the killer headache, the low fever, the very sore throat and the fact that I felt like death warmed over. I'd been awoken by my phone ringing, something I only really identified after I'd managed to separate that out from the ringing in my ears. I picked the phone up from my bedside table and answered it.  
"Yes?"  
"Hi, Sarah, it's Vicki," came the voice at the other end. A very tense voice, strangely enough.  
I suddenly felt about twice as tired as I had been originally. "Vicki, I'm tired; I'm feeling ill. This had better be good, okay?"  
"Oh that's fine. Just put Boris on, okay?" She actually sounded upset. Very very angry.  
"He's not here. I'm in my room, on my own, with a massive headache and a case of flu. Why the hell would I have Boris in here, Vicki?"  
"You're lying."   
"I'm not. What happened last night, Vicki? Did he finally decide that he could do better than you?"  
"You've got a hide asking me what happened last night! You walked out and left us there, in a pub with two teams of drunken footballers. We could have got raped!" Her voice was shrill at the other end of the line.   
I'd finally had enough. I didn't know what the hell had happened last night, and quite frankly, I'd now reached the point where I didn't damn well care. My head ached, I was tired out, I just wanted to curl up and sleep. Instead, I had Vicki being cryptically bitchy at me over the phone. Bugger that.  
"Vicki, you chose that pub. You knew the risks. I left a message with Dale when I left. I presume she passed it on, because she's usually pretty good about those sorts of things. If you've managed to finally bitch yourself into a corner with regards to Boris, that's your problem, not mine. I'm hanging up now."  
I did just that. The phone rang again within seconds.  
I picked it up and answered. It was Vicki again, this time with a tirade of abuse and demands that I put Boris onto the phone right now. I started to wonder whether she was in her right mind - I suspected that she wasn't. Neither was I. I hung right back up again. The phone rang again within seconds.   
"Vicki, if that's you, you can just fuck right off!"  
"Ummm.. no. It's Maggie. We were supposed to be having a PC study session, remember?"  
I sighed, feeling close to tears. "I'm sorry Maggie, but I can't make it. I think I've got a bad case of the flu. I feel like someone's scraped me out of my grave to be honest. D'you mind if we make this next week?"  
"No problems. Are you at home? I'd heard that you were planning on going on a pub crawl with Vicki, Sheryl and Dale."  
"Yes, I'm home. And don't remind me about Vicki, okay?"  
"I rather gathered that you'd reached the end of your tether with her."  
I gave a half-snort, half-laugh, part-sob. "I've got to go, Maggie. If I stay here talking for much longer, I'm going to collapse."  
"Fair enough. Switch your phone off after this call, okay? You don't need any more disturbances. Bye."  
"Bye."  
  
I switched the phone off and slowly eased myself back onto my pillows. A few minutes later, there was a gentle tap at my door. I winced and called out, "Come in".  
It was Merry, who was carrying a tray which had a cup of hot honey and lemon. I smiled weakly at him.  
"We got a phone call from Arwen. Lucky Frodo took it, she was gabbling in elvish. Anyway, we're all under strict instructions to make sure that you rest up. Oh, I'm to take your phone down with me, as well. It can charge in the lounge room. Now, drink that up."  
He picked up the phone and was out the door on silent feet very shortly afterward. I drank the drink and lay back on my bed, trying to get back to sleep. Unfortunately, sleep eluded me for a fair while. I caught it eventually, though.  
  
***  
"She's not all that well, but she should be a bit better after a bit of sleep."  
"Where's her phone? Arwen said that Vicki was apparently harassing her."  
"Here it is. I said I'd leave it in the lounge room to charge."  
"What, in the same room as Boromir? But... oh!"  
"Precisely."  
*** 


End file.
